


Remembering How to Fly

by EntameWitchLulu



Series: Femslash February 2021 [4]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:28:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29211129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntameWitchLulu/pseuds/EntameWitchLulu
Summary: Angels and demons who forsake their sacred duty of warfare will never fly again.
Relationships: Kurosaki Ruri/Grace Tyler
Series: Femslash February 2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139543
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	Remembering How to Fly

**Author's Note:**

> Based off [ this extremely old extremely bad artwork i did of Ruri/Grace](https://entamewitchlulu.tumblr.com/post/156026665994/yu-gi-oh-femslash-week-day-6-angelsdemons-by) YEARS ago for another Femslash February lol

“Is heaven beautiful?”

It’s the first that Grace has spoken in some time. Ruri thought she was asleep. In deed, her eyes are still closed, her silver hair spilled over Ruri’s knees like liquid platinum. The grass is soft, plush. Ruri has knelt here for quite some time now, with Grace’s head against her lap, and she doesn’t feel at all tired. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of running her fingers through Grace’s soft hair.

She considers the question as she realizes she’s let it hang for so long that Grace might think  _ she’s _ asleep.

“Well...I suppose it must be,” she says. “Beautiful...yes, I think that’s what you would call it.”

Grace opens her eyes, bright, green, her pupils like a snake’s, and oh so beautiful. Her brilliant white wings spread out like a blanket against the grass beneath her, and she stretches their tips, the sunlight playing through their membrane. When she speaks, Ruri can see the hint of her fangs glinting behind her lips.

“Describe it to me.”

Ruri looks up into the sky. Just a few clouds dot the perfect blue, and the dots of birds flicker across it as they dance and chase each other. Ruri’s own wings ruffle automatically in the memory of flight, the remembering of the way the wind had flooded over her as she had dipped and dived as easily as breathing. Now her feathers, though intact, are useless. She will never fly again, and her heart aches.

“It’s...very...bright,” Ruri says. “Everything is made of this smooth white stone.”

“Marble?”

“Not quite,” Ruri says. “Marble has...smoky patterns. This has no pattern. It’s just...white.”

She imagines it in her mind’s eye. The towering cities of shining white spires, outlined with gold, painted with colorful mosaics. The statues of angels with their urns flowing with pure, sparking water into the fountains below. The sky that was always the same shade of blue — somehow...more washed out than the one she looks at now.

“I don’t know,” Ruri whispers. “I think it was beautiful. It was my home. I loved it. But...”

She thinks of it now, thinks of the way the flames had surged through the streets she had known and love. The way the sky had turned red, the fountains had dried up. Have they rebuilt yet, she wonders? Have they managed to pull together some echo of the world as it had once been?

“It wasn’t like  _ this _ ,” she says.

And she doesn’t have to gesture, because she knows Grace has already seen it. The unending fields of flowers bobbing in a breeze, softly colored, perfectly matched to the lush carpet of green. The spiring trees, so warm and alive with the sunlight that filtered through their leaves. The sound of the birds echoing from their nests, as they played and sang and flew. Ruri touches one of her useless wings, and a black feather comes away in her hand.

Grace makes a faint sound that’s a bit like a humming, but she doesn’t respond again for a while. Once again, Ruri thinks that she has fallen asleep.

“What about hell?” Ruri asks. “Was hell beautiful?”

A faint smile curls the edges of Grace’s lips.

“Oh, of course,” she said. “That is, if you like that kind of thing.”

She chuckles, little more than a breath that escapes her lips.

“It was mostly stone. Deep red canyons. A smoky sky.”

Grace’s eyes open again, staring up into the sky.

“It wasn’t like this.”

Ruri curls her fingers into Grace’s hair again. She smooths the strands against her knees. Then Grace’s eyes move from the sky to hers. She reaches up with one hand, touches the black feather in Ruri’s hand. Takes it, pulls it to her lips, and breathes in the scent of it. Ruri smiles.

“Do you miss it?” she asks.

Grace snorts.

“Not at all.”

“No,” Ruri whispers. “Flying.”

Grace’s eyes half close. She still holds the feather to her lips. Her wings twitch in response. After a moment longer, she sits up, and her hair slides away from Ruri’s lap. She folds her delicate bat wings against her back as she turns around to face Ruri. 

She only touches Ruri’s face at first, caresses it — gently, mindful of her talons. Ruri shivers at the feel of them dragging down her jaw. Then Grace’s lips are on hers. Her lips are hot, and they taste like embers, but Ruri doesn’t think she could pull away even if it had burned her. Grace’s hand slides down Ruri’s shoulder, down her arm, around her back. She feels Grace’s fingers tangle a moment with her feathers, and she gasps into Grace’s mouth.

Grace pulls away from her, and Ruri wants to follow her lips.

“No,” Grace says, smiling in that sly, and yet sweet, way of hers. “Because you make me feel as though I already am, darling.”

The heat that comes to Ruri’s cheeks has nothing to do with Grace’s internal heat. She does follow Grace’s lips this time, and they tangle together, their useless wings forgotten, as for just a moment longer, they remember how to fly.


End file.
